Corea: The Hermit Nation

The preliminaries of the French expedition to Corea in 1866 may be gathered from the letters which passed between the French chargé d’affairs at Peking and Prince Kung, the Chinese premier, as published in the United States Diplomatic Correspondence, 1867–68.1 The pyrotechnic bombast of the Frenchman may be best understood by remembering that he lived in the palmy days of Louis Napoleon and the third empire. His violent language and behavior may be contrasted with the calm demeanor and firm temper of the astute Chinaman, the greatest of the diplomats of the Middle Kingdom.

“Unfortunately for the interests of his country, M. H. Bellonet had carried into diplomacy the rude customs and unmeasured language of the African Zouaves, in whose ranks he had served at one period of his career.” [378]

The best commentary upon this boast of an irate underling, dressed in the brief authority of his superior, will be found in the events of the expedition, notably in the reduction to ashes of the city of Kang-wa, which rendered 10,000 people homeless, and in the repulse of the reckless invaders even before Bellonet at Peking was settling the fate of the king.

With Bishop Ridel as interpreter, and three of his converts as pilots, three vessels were sent to explore the Han River. Equipped with charts made by Captain James of the Emperor, who had examined the western entrance one month before, the despatch-boat Déroulède leaving her consorts in Prince Jerome Gulf, steamed up the river on September 21st, as far as the narrows between Kang-wa and the mainland. The French officers were charmed with the beauty of the autumnal scenery. On the cultivated plain, checkered into a thousand squares of tiny rice-fields, all well irrigated, [379]the golden-tinted grain, now full ripe, awaited the sickle and the sheaf-binder. Numerous villages dotted the landscape, and to the northwest rose the green hills on which sat, like a queen, the city of Kang-wa. A number of forts, as yet unmounted with cannon, were already built. Others, in process of construction, were rising on well-chosen sites commanding the river. No garrison or a single soldier was as yet seen. The simple villagers, at first frightened at the sight of a mighty black ship, moving up the river against a strong current without sails or oars, collected in crowds along the banks to see this fire-pulsing monster from the western ocean.

On the 23d the Déroulède and Tardif, leaving the Primauguet at Boisée (Woody) Island, moved up the Han River to the capital, the Corean pilots at the bow, and Ridel with the men at the wheel. [380]One or two forts fired on the vessels as they steamed along, and in one place a fleet of junks gathered to dispute their passage. A well-aimed shot sunk two of the crazy craft, and a bombshell dropped among the artillerists in the redoubt silenced it at once. The rocks were safely avoided, and on the evening of the 25th, the two ships cast anchor, and the flag of France floated in front of the Corean capital. The hills environing the city and every point of view were white with gazing thousands, who for the first time saw a vessel moving under steam.

The ships remained abreast of the city several days, the officers taking soundings and measurements, computing heights and making plans. M. Ridel went on shore in hopes of finding a Christian and hearing some news, but none dared to approach him.

While the French remained in the river, not a bag of rice nor a fagot of wood entered Seoul. Eight days of such terror, and a famine would have raged in the city. Seven thousand houses were deserted by their occupants.

Returning to Boisée Island, having surveyed the river, two converts came on board. They informed Ridel of the burning of a “European” ship [the General Sherman] at Ping-an, the renewal of the persecution, and the order that Christians should be put to death without waiting for instructions from Seoul. Ridel in vain urged Admiral Roze to remain with his fleet, in order to intimidate the government. Sailing away, the ships arrived at Chifu, October 3d.

Tai-wen kun, now thoroughly alarmed, began to stir up the country to defense. The military forces in every province were called out. Every scrap of iron was collected, and the forges and blacksmith shops were busy day and night in making arms of every known kind; even the farmer’s tools were altered into pikes and sabres. Loaded junks were sunk in the channel of the Han to obstruct it Through the Japanese at Fusan, and the daimiō of Tsushima, word was sent to the Tycoon of Japan, informing him of his straits, and begging for assistance. The Yedo government, being at that time in great straits between the pressure of foreigners on one hand, and of the “mikado-reverencers” on the other, could not then, had it been right to do so, afford any military assistance against the French, with whom a treaty had been made. Instead of this, two commissioners were appointed to go to Seoul, and recommend that Chō-sen open her ports to foreign commerce, as Japan had done, and thus choose peace instead of war [381]with foreigners. Before the envoys could leave Japan, the Tycoon had died, and the next year Japan was in the throes of civil war, the shō-gunate was abolished, and Corea was for the time utterly forgotten.

The object of the French expedition and the blockade of the Salée (Han) River were duly announced from the French legation in China to the Chinese and foreign representatives in Peking. Without waiting to hear from his government at home, Bellonet despatched the fleet and made war on his own responsibility. The squadron which sailed October 11th, to distribute thrones and decapitate prime ministers, consisted of the frigate Guerrière, the corvettes Laplace and Primauguet, the despatch-vessels Déroulède and Kien-chan, and the gunboats Tardif and Lebrethon, with 600 soldiers, including a detachment of 400 marines from the camp at Yokohama.

One would have thought 600 men rather too small a force to root up thrones with, seeing that the days of Cortez and Pizarro were past. The Coreans were not like the Mexicans, who thought a horse and his rider were one animal. They had smelt powder and fought tigers.

On October 13th the admiral cast anchor off Boisée Island. The next day the gunboats steamed up the river, landing the marines in camp, a little over half a mile from the city. On the 15th, before any attempt was made to communicate with the government, a reconnoissance was made in force, toward Kang-hoa (Kang-wa), during which a small fort, mounting two guns, was captured.

Kang-wa was, to a modern eye, probably one of the best fortified cities in the kingdom. It was surrounded by a crenelated wall, nearly fifteen feet high! Behind this defense the native soldiery stood ready with flails, arrows, matchlocks, and jingals.

The royal residence, for pleasure in summer, and refuge in war-time, was beautifully situated on a wooded hill, from which a glorious view of the island, sea, and mainland was visible. The fertile island itself lay like a green emerald upon a greener sea. Crops of rice, barley, tobacco, sorghum, maize, various root foods, Chinese cabbage, chestnuts, persimmons, with here and there a great camellia tree just entering into bloom, greeted the view of the invaders. Kang-wa was well named “The Flower of the River.”

At eight o’clock on the morning of October 16th an attack was made in force on the main gate. At the distance of one hundred yards, the infantry charged on a run, to the cry of “Vive l’Empereur.” [382]The hot fire of the jingals checked them not a moment. Reaching the wall, they set up the scaling ladders, and in a few moments hundreds of Frenchmen were inside, shooting down the flying white-coats, or engaging in a hand to hand encounter, though only a few natives were killed. The gate was soon crushed in with axes, and the main body entered easily. Firing was soon over, and the deserted city was in the victors’ hands. About eighty bronze and iron cannon, mostly of very small calibre, over six thousand matchlocks, and the official archives of the city were found and made trophies of.

Kang-wa was the military headquarters for western Corea and the chief place of gunpowder manufacture. Large magazines of food supplies had been collected in it. Eighteen boxes of silver, containing ingots to the value of nearly thirty eight thousand dollars, and a great many books and manuscripts were found, besides spoil of many kinds from the shops and houses. Immense stores of bows and arrows, iron sabres without scabbards, helmets, and breastplates, beautifully wrought, but very heavy and clumsy, were found.

The cannon had no carriages, but were fastened to logs or fixed platforms. They were breech-loaders, in that the powder, fixed in an iron cartridge, was introduced at the breech, while the ball seemed to be put in simultaneously at the muzzle. These double-ended cannon reminded one of a tortoise. A curious or rather comical thing about these cannon was that many of them had several touch-holes in a row, the cannonier firing them by applying his match rapidly along the line of vents—an “accelerating gun,” of a rude kind. The Corean gunpowder is said to burn so slowly that a charge has to be lighted at both ends—a type of the national policy.

As the Coreans were fortifying Tong-chin with unusual care, the admiral sent out, October 26th, a reconnoitering party of one hundred and twenty men, who were landed on the mainland, opposite Kang-wa Island, whence the high road runs direct to the [383]capital. Here was a village, with fortifications clustered around a great gate, having a pointed stone arch surmounted by the figure of a tortoise and a pagoda. To force this gate was to win the way to the capital.

As the marines were disembarking, the Coreans poured in a heavy fire, which killed two and wounded twenty-five Frenchmen. Nevertheless the place was stormed and seized, but as the Corean forces were gathering in the vicinity, the marines returned to the ships to await reinforcements.

Toward evening a party of Coreans defiled at the foot of the plain in gallant array, evidently elated with supposed victory. Suddenly, as they came within range, the French ships opened on them with shell, which exploded among them.

Terrified at such unknown war missiles, they broke and fled to the hill-tops, where, to their surprise, they were again enveloped in a shower of iron. Finally they had to take shelter in the distant ravines and the far plains, which at night were illumined by their bivouac fires.

Weak men and nations, in fighting against stronger enemies, must, like the weaker ones in the brute creation, resort to cunning. They try to weary out what they cannot overcome. The Coreans, even before rifled cannon and steamers, began to play the same old tricks practised in the war with the Japanese in the sixteenth century. They made hundreds of literal “men of straw,” and stuck them within range of the enemy’s artillery, that the Frenchmen might vainly expend their powder and iron. The keen-eyed Frenchmen, aided by their glasses, detected the cheat, and wasted no shot on the mannikins.

Meanwhile the invaded nation was roused to a white heat of wrath. The furnace of persecution and the forges of the armorers were alike heated to their utmost. Earnest hands plied with rivalling diligence the torture and the sledge. In the capital it was written on the gate-posts of the palace that whoever should propose peace with the French should be treated as a traitor and immediately executed.

On October 19th, Ni, the Corean general commanding, had sent the French admiral a long letter stuffed with quotations from the Chinese classics, the gist of which was that whoever from outside broke through the frontiers of another kingdom was worthy of death—a sentiment well worthy of a state of savagery.

The French admiral, with equal national bombast, but in direct [384]and clearest phrase, demanded the surrender of the three high ministers of the court, else he would hold the Corean government responsible for the miseries of the war.

The Coreans in camp were ceaselessly busy in drilling raw troops and improving their marksmanship. Soldiers arrived from all quarters, and among them was a regiment of eight hundred tiger-hunters from the north, every man of whom was a dead shot either with bow or matchlock. These men, who had faced the tiger and many of whom had felt his claws, were not likely to fear even French “devils.” They garrisoned a fortified monastery on the island which was situated in a valley in the centre of a circle of hills which were crowned by a wall of uncemented masonry. It could be approached only by one small foot-path in a deep ravine. The entrance was a gateway of heavy hewn stone, arched in a full semicircle, the gate being in one piece. The walls were mounted with home-made artillery.

On the same day on which this information reached the admiral, the natives attacked a French survey boat, whereupon he at once resolved to capture the monastery. For this purpose he detached 160 men, without artillery, who left at six o’clock in the morning of October 27th, with their luncheon packed on horses. The invaders, with their heads turned by too many easy victories, went in something like picnic order, frequently stopping to rest and enjoy the autumnal scenery. On several occasions they saw squads of men marching over the hills toward the same destination, but this did not hurry the Frenchmen, though a native informed them that the monastery, ordinarily inhabited only by a dozen priests, was now garrisoned and full of soldiers.

At 11.30 they arrived near the fortress, when some one proposed lunch. Others jauntily declared it would be very easy to capture “the pagoda,” and then dine in the hall of Buddha himself; this advice was not, however, followed. Having arranged three parties, they advanced to within three hundred yards of the gate. All within was as silent as death. Suddenly a sheet of flame burst from the whole length of the wall, though not a black head nor a white coat was visible. In a minute the French columns were shattered and broken, and not a man was on his feet. The soldiers, retreating in a hail of lead, found refuge behind rocks, sheaves of rice, piles of straw, and in the huts near by. There the officers rallied their men lest the garrison should make a sally. The wounded were then borne to the rear. They numbered thirty-two. [385]Only eighty fighting men were left, and these soon became conscious of being weak and very hungry, for they had been cruelly tantalized by seeing the lunch-horse kick up his heels at the first fire, and trot over to the Coreans. They learned that one of the slips ’twixt the cup and the lip might be caused by a horse in Chō-sen. Perhaps some native poet improvised a poem contrasting the patriotic nag with the steed of Kanko, which led a hungry army home.

It being madness or annihilation for eighty Frenchmen to attempt to storm a stone fortress, garrisoned by five or ten times their number of enemies, and guarded with artillery, retreat was resolved on. The wounded were hastily cared for and the mournful march began. The stronger men carried their severely injured comrades on their shoulders with brotherly kindness. The unwounded who were free formed the rear-guard. Three times the little band had to face about and fire with effect at the Coreans, who thrice charged their foes with heavy loss to themselves. They then mounted the hills, and with savage yells celebrated their victory over the western barbarians. It was not till night, hungry and tired, that reinforcements were met a half league from camp. They had been sent out by the admiral, to whom had come presentiment of failure.

There was gloom in the camp that night and at headquarters. The near sky and the horizon, notched by the hills, seemed to glare with unusual luridness, betokening the joy and the deadly purpose of the invaded people.

The next morning, to the surprise of all, and the anger of many, orders were given to embark. The work on the fortifications begun around the camp was left off. The troops in Kang-wa set fire to the city, which, in a few hours, was a level heap of ashes. The departure of the invaders was so precipitate that the patriots to this day gloat over it as a disgraceful retreat.

A huge bronze bell, from one of the temples in Kang-wa, which had been transported half way to the camp, was abandoned. The Coreans recaptured this, regarding it as a special trophy of victory. The French embarked at night, and at six o’clock next morning dropped down to the anchorage at Boisée Island. On the way, every fort on the island seemed to be manned and popping away at the ships, but hurting only the paint and rigging. To their great disgust, the men repulsed two days before, discovered the walls of the monastery from deck, and that the distance was only a mile and [386]a half from the river side. There was considerable silent swearing among the officers, who believed it could be easily stormed and taken even then. Orders must be obeyed, however, and in rage and shame they silently gazed on the grim walls. The return of the expedition was a great surprise to the fleet at Boisée Island. On his return to China, the admiral found, to his mortification, that his government did not approve of the headlong venture of Bellonet.2

In the palace at Seoul, the resolve was made to exterminate Christianity, root and branch. Women and even children were ordered to the death. Several Christian nobles were executed. One Christian, who was betrayed in the capital by his pagan brother, and another unknown fellow-believer were taken to the river side in front of the city, near the place where the two French vessels had anchored. At this historic spot, by an innovation unknown in the customs of Chō-sen, they were decapitated, and their headless trunks held neck downward to spout out the hot life-blood, that it might wash away the stain of foreign pollution. “It is for the sake of these Christians,” said the official proclamation, “that the barbarians have come just here. It is on account of these only that the waters of our river have been denied by western ships. It behooves that their blood should wash out the stain.” Upon the mind of the regent and court at Seoul, the effect was to swell their pride to the folly of extravagant conceit. Feeling themselves able almost to defy the world, they began soon after to hurl their defiance at Japan. The dwarf of yesterday had become a giant in a day. [387]

In spite of foreign invaders and war’s alarms, one peaceful event during this same year, and shortly after the French fleet had gone away, sent a ripple of pleasure over the surface of Corean society. The young king, now but fourteen years old, who had been duly betrothed to Min,3 a daughter of one of the noble families, was duly married. Popular report credits the young queen with abilities not inferior to those of her royal husband.

According to custom, the Chinese emperor sent an ambassador, one Koei-ling, a mandarin of high rank, to bear the imperial congratulations and investiture of the queen. This merry Chinaman, cultivated, lively, poetic in mood, and susceptible to nature’s beauties, wrote an account of his journey between the two capitals. His charming impressions of travel give us glimpses of peaceful life in the land of Morning Calm, and afford a delightful contrast to the grim visage of war, with which events in Corea during the last decade have unhappily made us too familiar. [388]